Best In Me
by Chaotic Chaos
Summary: Leon Kennedy finally thinks of proposing to Claire, but an accident and other minor mishaps prevent him from reaching his goal. Events happened 5 months after my first fanfic, Goodbye To You.


**Disclaimer: Resident Evil® characters are of course, not mine; they're Capcom's. This was originally a songfic, but I sort of got tired of writing Leon-and-Claire-had-this-relationship-he-proposed-she-answered-they-married-and-they-lived-happily-ever-after fics so I decided to write where I'm good at: Angst fics. Yes, angst fics. For now. It might change as the story progresses…Anyways, here's Best In Me. Hope you like it.**

**Best In Me**

Chapter 1: The Lovers And The Thief

Books, assorted reports, pencils, erasers, ballpens…you name it, I got it somewhere on my desk. It's always like this; whenever I got worked up on a police report due the next week, the desk that I meticulously arranged becomes a mountain of junk in a matter of minutes. Almost everything's not in their usual place, all except one…

Claire's picture still stood in its place along with my other photos. A picture that I took myself 3 months ago. She looked gorgeous: This Claire Redfield was still sporting the ponytail, clad in a red v-necked sleeveless top, with the words '0% Angel' emblazoned in front, a tight black leather skirt, and a pair of black leather boots. She was leaning back on her motorcycle and looking at the sunset. She had that faraway look…a look of sadness and contentment, both at the same time.

"If I were you, I'd stop staring at her picture and focus on breakfast."

I looked up and saw a friend of mine, Karl Gallagher, munching on a doughnut. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"You call that breakfast?" Karl ignored my question and gazed at the picture.

"Cute, Leon. I thought you were still staring at the picture of that Ada-woman. Glad to see you changed it. That picture was creepy."

"Yeah, like scowling was practically her life," another friend, Evelio 'Evil' Santiago, butted in.

"Is that why you removed Ada's picture and replaced it with a nude picture when I took the day off?"

Louie Hamilton, another friend, sauntered in our direction and sat on the edge of my cluttered desk.

"You haven't forgotten that yet!?" he cried out incredulously.

"Correction: I haven't FORGIVEN and forgotten that yet," I drawled. Both Louie and Evil shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but Karl only shrugged.

"You don't have to be such a do-gooder all the time. Loosen up, man!" he advised indifferently. "Want one?" he offered the bag of doughnuts.

I peeked warily inside, then finally took a cinnamon-flavored one.

"He's right. You're not a priest, you know," Evil added.

That line seemed familiar, somehow. I munched thoughtfully on my doughnut and tried to recall where I've heard that.

"Yeah. You're a goddamn POLICE OFFICER, and don't you forget it!" Louie agreed.

Then it finally hit me.

_"Are you planning to be a priest sometime?"_

"Claire," I mumbled to myself.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"I'm leaving…" I stood up, took some papers from my desk and began stuffing it all in my backpack.

"But the day's just starting!"

"My shift's over," I said and pointed at the clock that hung on the wall in the middle of the room. It read 9:30 AM. I rummaged for my recent police report and somehow unearthed Ada's crumpled picture. I immediately dropped it like it was a piece of hot coal burning my fingers, then delved in again until I found what I was looking for. Evil reached out for the photograph and cocked an eyebrow at me.

"For someone who's been staring at her picture for 8 months, you're pretty terrified."

"I wasn't terrified. I was just surprised," I retorted.

Of the four of us, I was the only one incapable of getting into trouble. The three of them, however, were never so lucky; they've been in all sorts of mischief, either in the precinct or not, each possibly worse than the last. But I can't blame them for their tomfoolery. They're much too young for police work (actually, they were working as interns); Evil is probably the only one who can understand half the jargon we use at the precinct and has the sense not to touch material evidence with his bare hands. Since the Chief asked me to take charge of the neophytes, my life had become living hell. My only solace was —

"Hey, Kennedy!" someone called out. I whirled around to see who it was. It was Carlos Oliviera.

"There's someone waiting for you at the lobby." He eyed the other three suspiciously.

"I'll be there as soon as I finish this."

"Hurry up or she'll leave…wow, doughnuts! Can I have one?" he squealed.

"Be my guest," Louie replied nonchalantly.

I frowned. She? Who could 'she' be? I donned my baseball cap, then picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. I waved goodbye to my doughnut-loving pals and made my way to the lobby. My heart started to pound furiously. I've always felt uneasy around the opposite sex. Could it be Cassandra Drummond, that pesky woman from the Emergency Services Unit? I rounded a corner and came face to face with Ada Wong.

"Hi, Kennedy!" she greeted with a smile. My blood ran cold. Was she the one waiting at the lobby? What is she doing here? Did she become impatient and decided to pay me a visit in my part of the precinct?

"A—Ada? What are you doing in here?" I croaked.

"I'm working here, duh." She rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I were from Mars. "What's with you? Suddenly you 'forgot' the name of your partner? I'm Jamie, not Ada, you idiot."

"H—huh?" My throat felt dry. I gulped and blinked a few times. It IS Jamie Adams. She had been my partner during the last 2 operations this month. She usually wears glasses, and I've never seen her take it off, but she looks like Ada nonetheless. The thing I didn't know was that if she takes off her glasses and you come this close to her, she'd look EXACTLY like Ada.

"Oh…uh, sorry. My mistake," I apologized and scratched the back of my head.

"Apology accepted. Look, I have to go now. See ya later." She waved goodbye and walked away. I breathed in deeply and walked on my way. My legs felt like rubber. How could I be such an idiot? Ada's dead. She was long gone. So why am I pretty tense whenever I see something that reminds me of her? Maybe I need to pay another visit to the psychologist; a month's worth of leave sounds nice too.

A few steps later I finally reached the lobby. I scanned the crowd, looking for someone familiar. Then I saw Claire.

She was sitting on one of the benches, leafing through a magazine that was left there to entertain visitors while waiting for an appointment or for somebody else. I leaned against the wall and watched her. I remembered the day I met her, the day I met Claire Redfield.

We encountered each other at the wrong place at the wrong time; at the diner in Raccoon City at the time when the virus had already spread all over the place. She looked helpless, but she was still stunningly beautiful. Even though pointing a gun in her face wasn't the greatest thing to do to make an acquaintance, we still ended up being friends, and recently, as lovers.

I straightened up and walked nervously toward her. I don't know why, but my heart started to pound again and my hands started to get as cold as ice. This is the first time I've responded like this to her; I usually feel comfortable with her around. She must have sensed me coming; she looked up from what she had been reading and smiled at me. Putting the magazine aside, she stood up and smoothed her outfit. She always surprises me when it comes to clothes; as Chris said, she's an _avant-garde _concerning fashion. Today she was wearing a blue turtle-necked wool sweater with sleeves so long it only showed the length of her fingers, black leather mini skirt, black stockings and ankle-high leather boots.

"Good morning, Leon! Hey, lookin' nice," she referred to my clothes with a broad grin. Huh? What did that mean? What was so nice about an old pair of jeans, a denim jacket, a navy blue shirt, a baseball cap and a necklace with a crucifix for a pendant?

 "Really?" My voice practically cracked in nervousness as I replied. Geez, how can you be so pathetic at this time of the day? First Ada, now this. I can feel the word 'JERK' growing on my forehead, bright red and blinking to catch everyone's attention. I cleared my throat and spoke again.

"Sorry about that."

"I didn't know that a trip from your domain to the lobby would leave you pretty shaken." She took my hand to calm me down.

"Are you all right? Your hands are pretty cold." She sounded worried. Heck, she IS worried about me. I looked at her reassuringly.

"I'm fine. It's just chilly in here." I slipped an arm around her shoulder and led her outside.

"How did you know I was here?" I gradually relaxed and my nervousness started to diminish.

"I didn't know. I called last night to check on you but nobody was answering the phone…well, except your answering machine. So I assumed that you took the night shift yesterday," she explained. I gave her a lopsided grin. Claire wasn't just gorgeous; she has intelligence as well. A combination few attractive people possess, including her and me.

"So, what do you want to do today?" I asked as we walked the length of the sidewalk. I looked at her and almost laughed out loud. Her face was scrunched up; a habit she usually does whenever she tries to answer a difficult question.

"I didn't think of doing anything today…" she said slowly. "Probably because I was so excited to seeing you again that it didn't occur to me what I will do after that."

"How about shopping?"

She made another face. "Shopping? With you? Never mind."

"Hey! Who said females are the only ones capable of shopping? We men are better that all of you put together," I bragged.

"Oh yeah? We women are better than all of you put together when it comes to sex," she whispered seductively in my ear. I blushed furiously and changed the subject.

"So…does that mean you're heading home?" I asked awkwardly.

She beamed at me. "After we do some shopping."

"But—!" She cut me off.

"We can argue AFTER we do some shopping," she replied decisively. She grabbed my arm and marched toward the direction of the mall.

It took us an hour and a half and six shopping bags before I remembered that I have to buy Lincoln Rhyme's "Scenes Of The Crime" that our chief mentioned as a requirement — he said it was for some background reading for the next lecture this month — and some Whiskas for Trouble, my cat.

"Does that mean we have to split for a while?" Claire asked when I told her that.

"I guess so…yeah," I shrugged. We stood there in silence — well, more silent than the people in the mall — for the next 2 minutes or so before Claire broke the ice, thank God.

"I thought you need to buy something," she clasped her hands behind her back and grinned wickedly at me. I jerked.

"Uh…yeah, right." I turned round and started to leave.

"Gee, aren't we pretty forgetful today?" she said behind me, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I frowned, thinking. What did I forget? My money? An unpaid debt (although I never really had financial problems and never had borrowed money from anyone)? Sometimes my girlfriend could speak English yet make it sound like a foreign language. Too smart; whereas I, in any sense, is obviously starting to be too stupid. Okay, back to her question. What else? A kiss? Wow…this is the first time in history that Claire Redfield, of all people, hinted, much less asked, for a kiss. Usually she just holds my hand for affection. Oh well…that motto was probably right.

"There's always a first time for everything," I quoted half to myself.

"What?" I didn't answer. I hesitated a bit, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Seeyoulater," I mumbled hastily, whirled around and took 10 hurried footsteps before she was able to come to her senses.

"Hey, that's not what I meant!" she yelled after me. I spun around. She was blushing furiously and was holding her hand against the cheek that I had kissed oh-so-quickly.

"Huh?"

"I meant an answer to When? To Where?" she explained in an I-thought-that-was-pretty-obvious tone of voice. I blinked at her for a few times until the sense of her question finally sunk in my slow-functioning head. I felt my blood rushing to my face and ears.

"Oh…_that_. Uh…" — I looked at my wristwatch — "We'll meet at that fountain at 1:00 sharp. Is that okay with you?"

She shrugged. "It's as good as any." Then with a final glance at me, she turned her back on me and left.

Okay, so half an hour before 1:00, I was already starving (a doughnut in the morning isn't really suitable for breakfast). At first I tried to ignore it, but the growls my stomach was making was getting louder and louder. Fearing other people might hear my Digestive System complaints, I finally decided to order take-out at the nearest McDonald's chain.

When I got there 10 minutes later (I took a couple of wrong turns before I found the right floor), the line was pretty long. I gritted my teeth and took my place on the shortest of them, behind an elderly woman. The line advanced slowly — I felt that if I were to race with a turtle and a worm, I'd barely win — and my stomach complained longer than ever. It didn't help that the mingled aromas of cheeseburgers and fries teased my nose. A burly man behind me kept bumping me, and I kept moving like an erratic wind-up toy just to dodge his blows.

"Sonofabitch," I muttered as I tripped over my foot at his last shove, unable to control myself. Once or twice I thought if the man behind me was gay or something; his lips looked extra shiny, like he had smeared a coat of lip gloss to it (or did he just lick his lips?). I pushed the disturbing-but-probably-true thought away. Just when I was starting to concentrate on my stomach's incessant protests, the guy behind me _squeezed_ my butt. Enraged and disgraced, I let out a yelp and whirled around to give him a piece of my mind; but to my astonishment, he wasn't there. Or anywhere, for that matter. I patted my butt.

Hmm. Something's missing…where's my wallet? I frowned. I certainly placed my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans. Did it fall off somewhere in the mall? Or did that heavyset man behind me—!

"Shit…"

He stole my wallet! I shoved away the people behind me and searched for him. Left…no sign of the prick. Right…all clear. Where the hell is he? If I ever see him again, I swear I'll beat him — wait…there he is!

I ran as fast as I can towards the thief. I know that I could catch him in a matter of seconds if only the mall wasn't so fucking crowded! It's so hard to catch up to him when most of the time I had gained running was spent on pushing my way through a crowd that wouldn't even budge. Finally, after a 5-foot string of cussing from the throng and a ton of **_I'm sorry_s, the people around me lessened and I could breathe again.**

That's the good thing; bad news is, the thief got away, along with 150 bucks and a picture of me, Claire and Sherry. Just when I was about to turn back, an ear-splitting scream rang through the mall.

"Thief! Help, somebody!" I looked around; my police senses tell me that that other thief is the guy I'm after. I saw a woman in her late thirties, screaming at the top of her lungs, then I looked in the direction she had been pointing at; there was a heavyset man running like mad clutching a handbag. No doubt about it; he's the culprit. I tore after him.

He sure doesn't tire easily; a man his size should've slowed down by now. Nevertheless, I went on chasing him until we were out of the mall. He had reduced his hasty takeoff into an idle walk by this time so as not to arouse suspicion. This is my opportunity to retrieve what he stole, but I have to be careful or he'll run away again. At length, I caught him, and I'm pretty sure he wasn't happy with the outcome.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing!? Let me go!"

"Yeah, yeah. But AFTER you give that handbag and a stolen wallet that I presume is mine."

"I don't know what you're talking about, man." I tightened my grip on his wrists and gritted my teeth. I hate it when people still lie when they already know they're busted. He yelled in pain.

"Ow! You're hurting me, pal!" I blinked in surprise. For someone whose body looked like it had been to the gym every day, he's pretty lame.

"Really? Good. It's supposed to hurt, y'know. Now stop all this nonsense and just hand it over."

"Hand over what?" he asked innocently. Oh, he's pretty good.

"The things you stole, asshole," I growled.

"I don't steal anything."

"Do you want me to put 6 bullets in your cranium to make you give it back?" I threatened. He laughed nervously.

"You're kidding."

"Try me."

He shuddered, then he spoke hoarsely. "In my pocket."

You've done it again, Kennedy! God, I felt like jumping, but decided against it. I don't want to be caught looking like a total idiot in front of everyone. When I had retrieved the bag and my wallet, I remembered that when these things happen, I (police officers) should head straight to the nearest police station. But I guess it won't hurt to go against that rule just this once. There's no sign of a patrol officer anywhere, and I'm kind of in a hurry to get back to my girlfriend.

"I should lead you straight to the police station right now for…you know. But…I guess it won't hurt if I let this go, if we just forget all this and go on like nothing like this ever happened. Right?" he just nodded.

"Just promise me that you won't do it again, or else I'll kill you. Understood?" he nodded again.

I loosened my grip on him and walked away. I had made not more than 10 steps when the thief shouted.

"Hey, officer…may I have a word with you for a second?" A voice in my head told me to ignore it and pretend that I didn't hear him, but my curiosity got the better of me. I turned and looked in horror at him. At the gun in his hand.

"You're too trusting. Learn from this IF you're lucky enough to live: Never trust a criminal, no matter how light or heavy his case may be."

Before I could even react, he had already pulled the trigger. The people around me screamed, and I felt the searing pain in my chest where the bullet went through. My body went numb, and I staggered down. My past flashed before my eyes and I saw my family, my friends, all that I had loved dearly…and Claire. I wonder how she would take my death…I saw her in my mind, crying over my grave, and never leaving its side.

"Claire…I'm sorry…"

Then I closed my eyes, and saw only black, then saw no more.

*~*+*~*

Hahahaha…my grammar is lousier than ever…hahahaha…I got tired of writing a love story because I have no inspiration to base it upon. Watching Strife_07 and Auster-sama all day for 5 days is becoming pretty boring. Actually, I don't know what to write for the 'you know' that Leon mentioned, so don't ask me for an acceptable explanation. Leon might seem brash and harsh at the near end of the chapter. It's my fault. I'm actually rushing the Leon-Thief scene, so that I could be at peace and concentrate more on my studies (Chemistry and Math isn't just elements and numbers, you know). By the way, PLEASE read strife_07's work, "Entwining Paths" (this is really a good read…but better if I have posted my artwork somewhere—maybe my own website—but I don't have a website) and also Saicho-18's "All The Right Things". She needs 2 more reviews (her recent review count is 118) for her to be forced to write the next chapter. I guess that's all. Thank you for reading!!!


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